We Have Time
by Cantica10
Summary: Rose begins having nightmares about parting with The Doctor, and is in desperate need of some reassurance.


Prompt challenge from djem90: Rain, music, tears.

I was in the mood to write something sweet. It's been a while since I've posted anything on this site, and as a fairly new Whovian *cough* last month *cough* I decided I'd better put something down in the fandom. I've seen the first six seasons of the revamped series, plus episode 1 of season 7 (and episode 1 of the classic series) and I must say, with several possible pairings I loved Ten/Rose the most, hands down (followed not-so-closely by Nine/Rose). I wish they'd bring back Ten. Don't get me wrong, I love Matt Smith, but my heart still aches when I think of David Tennant's Doctor. Do any of you feel this, too? Probably.

I 'm happy with this story. Or happy enough. It didn't go quite where I thought it would, but that's okay! I dearly hope that once you've reached the end you'll review. Reviews make my day! They're what get me up in the morning! Well, that and Doctor Who.

But anyway, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I won the rights to Doctor Who in a pub last week. And if you believe that, I also have a bridge on the planet Skaro I'd like to sell you. In short, I own nothing.

"We Have Time"

Rose woke up short of breath with tear-stained cheeks, unable to shake the terrible dreams that had plagued her that night in sleep. Visions of Daleks and werewolves stuck with her in particular, and Rose gritted her teeth and rolled over, further tears escaping and rolling in curved paths down her cheeks. She rolled over and tried to remember more. So many monsters had been coming for them, but that couldn't possibly have been the cause for such emotional agony. No, there was something else she couldn't quite grasp, and she feared that if she didn't sort through her nightmares soon she would never know what had hurt her so much in her slumber.

She concentrated with all her might on the dreams. The Doctor had been there. He was always in her dreams, good or bad. In the first few days after his regeneration she had dreamed of his former body, the leather jacket wearing and slightly narcissistic incarnation she had first learned to love, missing that Doctor terribly. But slowly that Doctor had been replaced by his current incarnation in her subconscious; the tall and gangly Doctor with spiky and uncontrollable hair who could talk for minutes upon end about anything, interesting or uninteresting. The Doctor always stood by her side in her dreams, and she was never afraid if he was there. So why did she feel so traumatized?

She felt like she was grasping at the ribbons of fading illusions, and she barely caught hold of a faint feeling of abandonment before she lost them entirely and was forced to give up the effort, turning over and burrowing beneath her covers. Tears still trickled down her cheeks as she shut her eyes and tried to find sleep again and shake the horrible and engulfing feeling of having been deserted. She knew The Doctor was just down the hall, in the control room or the library (his two favorite places to be in the middle of the night). He was a mere thirty seconds away, and yet she had never felt more alone.

* * *

Rose was distant the next day. The Doctor didn't notice it until later, as he had been rather engulfed in 'fixing' the TARDIS for a vast majority of the morning while she sat curled up in one of the chairs near the console, reading an Agatha Christie novel (printed sometime in the thirty-fourth century) and handing him tools when he asked her to. Mid-afternoon he finally drew away from his tinkering, satisfied with the modifications to the temporospacial navigator, pocketing his glasses and stretching out his arms.

"Well, that's done, then. The old girl should fly just a bit smoother, I'm hoping. Make it a little easier on us, always jerking about in here." He grinned at Rose, but the gesture was wasted. Her gaze was trained upon the pages of her book rather fixatedly. That either meant she was too engulfed to process what was going on around her or she was purposely ignoring him. And since that was the third time she'd read that particular novel, he was guessing the latter. But why would she be ignoring him? Had he done something to make her angry? "Rose?" he asked, slightly hesitant. He didn't like her when she was angry. She was actually rather frightening when she was angry.

She reluctantly looked up at him. "Yeah?"

Well, at least she was talking to him. The last time he'd upset her she'd given him the silent treatment for half a week. It had nearly driven him mad. "Fancy a cuppa before we head out? Let's see if all that hard work paid off; what do you say?"

"I'll make it," Rose volunteered, at once discarding her book and getting to her feet. "The last time you made tea the stove nearly blew up."

The Doctor chuckled sheepishly. "I thought that adding a catalyst might speed up the process of degradation of the tea leaves… that Phylaxxian who sold it to me seemed like he knew what he was talking about. But then, I suppose that's the danger of buying things off that Asteroid mall – you never know what could happen with your merchandise."

"And now you leave the tea making to me," Rose said firmly as she made her way for the kitchen. "Because the next time you try a stunt like that we might have to evacuate the TARDIS after you use another catalyst that turns smoke toxic."

The Doctor tugged his earlobe in thought as he watched his companion disappear through the door that led to the kitchen. There was definitely something wrong. She was usually more… playful, he supposed was the word. Her teasing remarks were usually gentle; they never had quite that much sting to them. He could only assume she was upset, but there was a less likely option that he was hoping for. Maybe she was just tired? Perhaps it would be best to stay a few more hours suspended in the time vortex and let her get a few more hours of sleep. She'd slept so little lately, with all their excursions and such. Just last week she'd gotten a nasty sunburn after they'd been marooned three days on a desert planet, and it had rejected the medications used on it and gotten infected. She'd been in too much pain to lie down properly and sleep.

"A few more hours, then," he decided aloud to himself, nodding his head as though that made his statement resolute. He was eager to see if his modifications to the TARDIS would make travel smoother, but it could certainly wait a bit longer. Rose came first.

As she stood with her back to the stove, Rose dwelled upon the nightmares. She'd had another one after falling asleep again last night, and she could remember bits and pieces, incoherent strands that seemed to make no sense together but made her feel hollow and lonely nonetheless. She could remember that The Doctor was there… and then he wasn't. That was why she felt so alone… but abandoned? What was the cause for that?

"_Goodbye, Rose Tyler. Have a grand old life_."

The words jostled her. It was The Doctor's voice resounding in the back of her head, like an echo. A goodbye… it sounded like a final goodbye. Words that Rose dreaded more than anything else. But… it wasn't real, was it? It was all a nightmare. Why was it affecting her so? Sighing, Rose turned back to the stove, wiping tears out of her eyes. A goodbye… no. She was supposed to stay with him forever, wasn't she? Forever.

"How's it coming, Rose?" The Doctor inquired as he strode into the kitchen, feigning nonchalance. He was determined to act as though he suspected nothing, but Rose didn't even give him the opportunity as she stepped away from the stove and the kettle.

"I… I'm tired," Rose mumbled, unable to meet The Doctor's gaze as she inched around him towards the door. "I think I'll go get some sleep before we head off again."

"Rose, wait," The Doctor pleaded, grabbing Rose's arm before she could slip out of the kitchen. "What's wrong? Are you feeling sick?" He pressed a palm to her forehead, but he didn't find anything abnormal there. She certainly didn't have a fever.

"I'm fine," Rose insisted, shrugging her shoulder and pulling her arm away. "Like I said, I'm just tired." She paused in the doorframe and turned her head just enough to barely meet The Doctor's gaze. "Goodnight, Doctor."

And left with no option but to acquiesce to her wishes, The Doctor bade her a rather defeated goodnight just as the kettle began to whistle, demanding his attention.

* * *

Rose awoke with a start, crying as she jolted out of nightmares and into reality. Abandoned and alone. Those two emotions wrapped around her, choking her until every breath was a struggle and her entire body shook with the power of her sobs. The dream was fresh in her mind, that terrible illusion. It had been her and The Doctor, running about some alien planet as they usually did, saving people or worlds from terrible fates. She couldn't remember specifics on the planet or their purpose there, not in the wake of everything else that came after.

She recalled a fireplace. She had seen it before, on the ship of the clockwork monsters. The fireplace that led to 18th century France… and to Reinette. Why had they gone back there? If it had been up to her, that fireplace would have been lost forever. That way, she would never have to fear for losing The Doctor to that time again. He had already left her once, smashed straight through a mirror that barred itself after he passed through. All for her, that French woman who remained immortalized in history. Oh, he had been enamored with her. And in her dream, Rose had watched him once again choose Reinette; he'd gone through the fireplace, and somehow Rose had known he could not return.

She sat up and rubbed tears vigorously out of her eyes. Why was she falling apart? It was only a dream. She was in her bedroom on the TARDIS, where she had gone to sleep after putting on the kettle and leaving The Doctor in the kitchen. There had been no airship; there had been no fireplace. But why were these dreams coming now? The fireplace had been weeks ago. They'd gone to more worlds, even across dimensions! They'd battled cybermen and The Wire, and last week they'd been marooned on that planet with six suns… there was no reason for such pointless emotional distress, not when such distress was over something that happened so long ago, so many planets ago.

Still tired but afraid to return to sleep, Rose shoved her covers aside and stood. Her chest hurt, ached with longing. But for what? For The Doctor? He was somewhere close by, she could sense his very presence in the TARDIS – she truly had no reason to pine for him so. And yet she did. Perhaps the nightmares were pushing their way through her subconscious and into her reality.

She changed out of her clothes – she'd fallen asleep without bothering to get in pyjamas or anything – and trudged into her small bathroom, grimacing when she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot and a night of crying when she'd neglected to wash off her makeup made her eyes look hollow and sunken… not to mention made her akin to a scary raccoon. She washed off her face and sighed, knowing she'd have to go out and face The Doctor sometime but getting the strangest feeling in the pit of her stomach when she considered seeing him. Like… dread.

But still, hiding in her bedroom was pointless. The Doctor would seek her out eventually, and she'd prefer not to have to come up with an excuse for why she was staying shut in. She left her face alone, not caring enough to bother with makeup, and crossed the bedroom before slipping into the TARDIS's halls.

He was in the console room, glasses-clad and fiddling with circuits per usual. A thick tangle of wires was thrown over his left shoulder as he sonicked various ends to a panel with his screwdriver, his tongue poking out between his teeth in concentration. Typically this expression would have made Rose smile with amusement; today her heart throbbed painfully. Knowing she hadn't been seen yet and deciding to leave him to his work just a bit longer, Rose slipped back into the hall and to the kitchen, pouring herself a generous mug of coffee and leafing through cupboards for food. Cereal it was. She didn't have the energy to actually make something.

It happened when she was sitting at the table, cradling her mug between both palms. She looked down – and her hands were not hers hands. Instead of the smooth, pinkish skin she'd been accustomed to for twenty years, she saw old hands, papery and liver spotted, wrinkled with excessive age. She jolted and dropped the mug at once, letting out a small gasp and then a shriek as hot coffee cascaded over the edge of the table onto her lap. She leapt instinctually away from the pain, but it was far too late to escape from. It hurt like hell, but she was much more concerned about her hands. She clenched her teeth and tried to ignore the throbbing burning sensation on her legs as she examined them. They were normal. No wrinkles, no liver spots… smooth and normal. What the hell had she seen?!

A memory. Oh, god. A memory of a nightmare. She'd been fine and happy… it had been a good dream… and then she'd looked down at her hands and they'd been old, and The Doctor had dropped her off on Earth and left her, never to be seen again.

"_Goodbye, Rose Tyler. Have a grand old life_."

Tears flooded into her eyes, clouding her vision, as the words echoed once more in the back of her head.

"Rose!" The Doctor burst into the kitchen with a look of pure alarm, stopping short when he saw his companion standing at the table staring with intent scrutiny at her hands, the front of her jeans soaked with what appeared to be the coffee spreading into a pool on the table and spilling over the edge. Her eyes were shining with tears and her expression was screwed up in pain and concentration. He panicked. "Rose, what is it? What's the matter?" he begged, rushing up to her and grabbing her hands, examining them as she had been to look for anything wrong. He found nothing. Confusion piling onto concern, he looked from Rose to the table and the overturned mug and back again. "Come on, Rose, tell me what hurts!"

She appeared to snap out of a trance, looking up into his urgent expression with a gaze of confusion. Her eyes went to her hands, still held in his, and she stared at them blankly. "I'm fine. I just spilled my coffee, that's all."

"Yes, I can see that; _hot_ coffee," he said, adding extra emphasis to the word in hopes that she'd snap out of whatever mood she'd been in for the last two days and admit that something was _not_ fine, not when there were still tears glistening in her eyes. "Did you burn yourself?"

"I'm fine. I just need to change," she mumbled, pulling her hands out of his and fisting them at her sides as she tried to slip past him, but he wouldn't allow it. Not yet.

"Rose," he begged her, placing a gentle hand on her arm, causing her to halt in her path out of the room. "Let me help. Please."

She stared at The Doctor, at his pleading expression, and for a moment considered confessing the reason she was isolating herself so. She considered telling him about the nightmares where he left her all alone, where she grew old and he abandoned her… but she knew she couldn't. Because while they were only nightmares now, they would have to become reality sooner or later, and she couldn't stomach having him tell her it was going to be all right and they would stay the way they were forever, because she knew they would be lies. So she pulled herself away from him and mumbled again, "I just need to change."

She prayed to some higher power that he hadn't seen the tear slide down her cheek as she slipped out of the kitchen.

He had.

* * *

When Rose emerged from her bedroom some time later, having changed out of her clothes and spent a while having a good cry buried beneath the covers of her bed, The Doctor was resigned to taking her on another adventure in hopes that she might regain her usually chipper mood. He saw her and beamed, more than relieved to see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "So, where to next?" he asked hopefully, running his hands over the console, brushing his fingers over random buttons and knobs that could take them to the whole of time and space. "Barcelona? We never did go there. Dogs with no noses! No?" he asked when Rose shook her head. "Is there anything you'd like to see? Name anything, and I can find a planet to fit the description!"

But Rose sat down and said in an indifferent tenor, "Anywhere's fine."

"Random adventure!" The Doctor affirmed, cranking a few knobs and slamming his hand down enthusiastically on a button. The TARDIS jerked in several random directions, throwing Rose out of her chair as it hurled through the time vortex. The Doctor held onto a bar bolted into the console as tight as he could to remain upright, watching Rose pull herself to her feet by gripping another.

And then, with another tremendous jolt, the TARDIS came to a stop. The Doctor grinned and clambered to the computer, watching the screen as it registered which galaxy they'd arrived in and located the planet. He was rather pleased, exclaiming with delight, "Pluvia! In the Cantica Quadrant! Oh, that's brilliant, I haven't been here in years! You'll love it, Rose! Grab a jacket first, though, something that can withstand the rain, and we'll be off!"

Rose scurried out of the console room, feeling alive for the first time in several hours. The Doctor's enthusiasm was contagious, and she was starting to feel a bit like her old self again. She searched her room for a waterproof jacket and found nothing adequate, resulting in a quick trip to the wardrobe (where the TARDIS was kind enough to pull jackets to the front of the room to minimize her search time) and emerged in the console room fifteen minutes later, a lime green jacket on over her t-shirt.

"Fantastic," The Doctor beamed, nodding in approval as he twirled an umbrella in his hands, wondering if it would be big enough for the two of them.

"What's that for?" she asked, indicating the umbrella. He'd said to wear something waterproof, but this was becoming ridiculous.

"The rain. It's always raining here; it never stops. But oh, it is beautiful, Rose! The things we'll see – the things we'll _hear_! _Wonderful_ planet, Pluvia! _Wonderful_!" he exclaimed, ushering Rose towards the door and feeling enormous relief wash over him when she smiled at last.

The moment he opened the TARDIS door, Rose gasped. _Music_. That was all that seemed to exist anymore. It was in the air, in her very soul. She wanted to just stand right there, where she was, and listen to it. Forever…

"Come on, Rose. There's more to this planet than just that." She heard The Doctor through a haze, somewhere behind the music, but she took the hand he offered to her and allowed herself to be pulled out of the blue police box and into the alien world.

Rain assaulted her at once, coming down upon her with brutal conviction, and she winced. Within ten seconds her hair was drenched, and The Doctor was apologizing endlessly over the music as he struggled to maneuver the umbrella. It sprung open at last and he flipped it up over them, creating a small shelter from the rain. Rose huddled close to him, gripping his left jacket sleeve and shivering as a droplet of water slithered down the back of her neck. "Is it always like this?!" she asked, raising her voice to be heard over the haunting and ceaseless melody.

"Believe it or not, we've landed on one of the good days. The rain's usually a lot more brutal. Makes the music more intense, but we wouldn't be able to withstand the weather for very long. And people wonder why this isn't a more popular tourist destination," The Doctor explained, shifting the umbrella slightly so it covered Rose entirely, never mind that there was rain still pelting his right shoulder; she was finally smiling, amused by his commentary.

"Where's all that music coming from?" Rose asked, looking around as if expecting to find an identifiable source; an impossible endeavor, as the music was coming from everywhere around them.

"It's the trees. All the foliage. When the rain strikes it, they emit all the sounds that we're hearing right now. And since it never stops raining, the music never stops either."

Rose gazed at one tree in particular, a tall stalk with flat and sturdy leaves. If she listened hard enough, she could hone in on the sound it emitted, a deep and soulful sound not unlike that of a saxophone. "Bet the people who live here love this."

"There aren't any people here," The Doctor said, stuffing a hand in his pocket and glancing around. "There were, once upon a time, but they're all gone now." He sighed and looked down at Rose, shocked to find her staring back at him, giving him her undivided attention. "And even then, none of them ever heard this. They were deaf. All of them."

Rose's face fell and she looked away, back out at the wonder around them. "That's so sad. I mean… it's awful."

And just like that, it was creeping up on her again. That horrible and overwhelming sense of depression, the feeling of loneliness and abandonment. She suddenly felt unable to breathe. And the longer she stood there next to him, listening to that music that was beautiful and enchanting yet at the same time haunting and lonely, the worse she felt.

"Rose?" The Doctor asked gently, feeling her stiffen against him. "Are you okay?" He looked down at her, mortified to see tears descending in curved paths along her cheeks. "Rose?!"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and he almost didn't hear it beneath the music. She let go of his arm and threw her hood on before bolting out from beneath the umbrella and out into the rain, racing for the TARDIS and clambering inside, The Doctor urgently calling her name after her.

He groaned and followed her, shutting the umbrella as he neared the blue police box. "So close," he muttered, slipping back inside. He shut the door, blocking out the music, and shucked off his dripping coat, throwing it over the railing before calling Rose's name again. She didn't answer, but then, he hadn't expected her to.

The TARDIS seemed to sense his urgency to get to his companion, and when he entered the hall he found Rose's room had been transferred to the first door on his left. Offering a quick thanks to the old girl, he knocked twice on the door and waited for a response. When he didn't receive one, he went inside and his hearts twisted to see the sort of state she was in.

Rose's green jacket lay at the foot of her bed in a puddle of water and she was lying curled up on her bed with her face in her hands, her jeans as sopping wet as her yellow hair, her body shivering from cold and racking with sobs. "Oh, Rose," he sighed, crossing the room and sitting on her bed, never hesitating to draw her up and pull her into his arms. "Is it something I did?" he asked softly as she buried her face in his suit jacket and cried, clutching the fabric in her small fists. "Whatever it is, I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry."

"It's not anything you've _done_," she sobbed, shaking her head hopelessly. "It's what you'll _do_."

"What do you mean? What will I do?" The Doctor murmured, rubbing Rose's arm. He felt so inadequate. Give him a civilization to save with slim chance of survival, sure; comfort a crying Rose and he felt completely powerless.

"Do you remember the day I told you I'd be with you forever?" Rose whispered.

The Doctor could suddenly see where this was going, and his hearts nearly broke to realize the extent of Rose's depression. Oh, it all made sense now. Desperate to offer her solace, he kissed her forehead and pulled her closer. "Of course. Of course I remember."

She sniffled and asked, "It's not possible, is it?"

He couldn't answer her question, not without breaking her heart and both of his own. He hugged her as tightly as he was able, his lips against her temple, and asked softly, "What brought this about?"

She answered, but her voice was so choked and thick with tears he couldn't quite tell what it was she said. "Sorry, what?"

"Nightmares," she mumbled against his chest.

"Nightmares?" The Doctor repeated, baffled. She'd never had nightmares before. Dreams, certainly – they'd had discussions at length about her crazy dreams, but thus far the most frightening thing she could recall in them was a recollection of the spinning Christmas tree of death from the day the Sycorax invaded the earth. "What are you having nightmares about?"

"Just… things. Awful things," Rose admitted at long last, and the minute she had said it, she felt a little better. "Like when I dropped my coffee mug this morning… that wasn't exactly an accident. I looked down and my hands… they weren't mine; they were old. It scared me."

The Doctor slowly released her and lifted his hands towards her face. "Can I…?" he asked, trailing off when she nodded. He placed his palms gently on her cheeks, fingertips extending into her hairline. "You know how this works," he reminded her softly. "If there's anything you don't want me to see, just imagine a door and lock whatever it is inside."

Slowly, he reached into her thoughts, probing at her mind until her subconscious was open to him and her alike, and she cringed beneath his touch as she relived her nightmares with him. The Doctor grimaced, watching the images running through her mind.

"I keep dreaming about you," Rose whispered, tears in her eyes as she re-experienced a painful dream in which she was watching The Doctor leave her, getting into the TARDIS behind some faceless woman with black hair, helpless to stop him. "And they start out wonderfully. But then you leave me because I've gotten too old or some other reason… sometimes you decide it's too dangerous and you send me back without you, like you did once… and then sometimes you just… decide its time, and you want someone else to travel with you…"

The Doctor drew his hands away from his face and immediately pulled her back into him. "I'm sorry," he murmured again. "I am so, so sorry."

"I just want them to stop," Rose said, wiping at her eyes. "How do I make them stop?"

"The better question is, why did they start in the first place?" The Doctor mused, looking around in thought as though he hoped to find the trigger lurking somewhere in a corner. "When did they start, exactly?"

"A few days ago. I don't know why. Up til then all my dreams were a bit crazy, but not… you know," Rose tailed off, biting her lip.

"A few days?"

"Yeah."

"Like…hm, say… four days ago?"

"Yeah, just about."

"Well, isn't that just barmy?!" The Doctor exclaimed, leaping up to his feet, startling Rose as he raced for her dresser and scooped up a vial he'd given her four days previously, now half-empty. "I know exactly what's causing this!"

"What, that stuff you gave me for my sunburn?" Rose asked in disbelief, still recovering from the jolt he'd given her.

"Yes, this stuff! Side effects attached to this stuff, you know, but it was all I had to give you, and the chances of getting any of the effects were slim at best. But somehow you managed it, you improbable human being, you!" He turned around and grinned fondly at his companion. "Hallucinations, normally – but you didn't get them in the conventional way, oh no – they worked their way into your subconscious and brought your worst fears to life."

Rose stared at him, bewildered. "That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"It certainly should! Now that we've identified the problem, we can eliminate it! Your shoulders are fine, aren't they?" He asked, referring to her infected sunburn.

Rose nodded. "Yeah, they're fine. That stuff worked wonders when it wasn't giving me nightmares."

"Good; then you won't be needing this anymore," The Doctor said, stuffing the vial in his pocket. "And, there you go! Nightmares, gone! You'll be back to dreaming of glistening butterflies and talking flowers by tonight."

"That's very well, but it doesn't change how I feel about the nightmares I've already had!" Rose exclaimed. "They happened, Doctor, and what happened in them is going to happen eventually, and I know it's not something you want to talk about but… I feel like I'm going to go mad, knowing what's coming!" Tears were filling her eyes again; the emotions were overpowering her.

A terrible silence fell across the room.

"What do you want me to do, Rose?" The Doctor asked softly at long last, looking down at her as his hearts constricted again. "What do you need from me?"

She shook her head, looking down into her lap so she didn't have to meet his eye, and although it killed her, she pushed him away. "Get out," she whispered.

"Rose, please—"

"No! Go away! I can't… I just can't, not right now. Please. Just… go."

And so, with no other arguments to pose in the face of Rose's irrationality, he went.

* * *

The Doctor was miserable all day. The most productive thing he did was move the TARDIS off of Pluvia and into the time vortex, parking it. He found no joy even in tinkering with the TARDIS, making a half-hearted attempt at rewiring a few circuits before he gave up the endeavors, pocketing his glasses and slumping into a chair next to the console, wondering how to repair things with Rose instead. What was he supposed to do when presented with what she wanted from him? She had practically accused him of wanting to leave her, if not now at least sometime in the future, when that was the last thing he wanted to do. Ever. When she had promised to stay and travel with him forever… in over 900 years, he couldn't remember a happiness like that. He'd been searching for ways to make that possible ever since that promise had been made. Without taking away her humanity, that was. With the whole and time and space, he was determined that something should show up eventually.

He debated over bringing her tea or food, but then he supposed if she wanted anything she would get it herself and avoid him, so he stayed in the console room and out of the hallways. All afternoon he listened for any sign of movement from them, but she had either shut herself in entirely or the TARDIS was taking her side and moving Rose's bedroom and possible destinations far from his range of hearing.

He felt so useless, that he decided to retire for the night for the first time in weeks. Time Lords didn't typically require much sleep – only about a third of the amount that humans required. Typically he ended up nodding off in a chair for two or three hours and he was fine. As a matter of fact, he could barely remember what his bedroom looked like. Sleep was more of a luxury for Gallifreyans.

Good thing the TARDIS could rearrange the rooms, otherwise he wasn't sure he could have found it.

* * *

Two hours of trying to go to sleep and finding no relief, and Rose finally sat up and sighed, pressing her palms to her temples. She was not going to find any peace until she did two things. First; make up with The Doctor, which was far easier than what she needed to do second: let go of her fear of having more nightmares.

She got out of bed and threw a dressing gown on over her pyjamas, slipping into the hall trying not to think about the shame twisting in the pit of her stomach. She'd been so horrible to him, and none of it was his fault. He couldn't help that she was human. Of course, she couldn't help it either, but it was what it was.

She crept along the hall to the console room and found it empty and dark, almost eerie when she was so accustomed to seeing it flooded with light and, more often than not, with a very eager Doctor fiddling with wires or pulling on levers and pressing buttons. She next looked in the library and found it much the same as the console room. With those two options exhausted, Rose wasn't quite sure where else to look. She tried the kitchen, but it yielded no results. "A little help?" she asked the TARDIS only half-seriously, but when she next stepped into the hall she found her plea had been answered and there were different doors to try.

It was very apparent which room the TARDIS wanted her to go to, as there was only one door that wasn't locked. It was more impressive than the simple doors; larger and stamped with ornate circles Rose could compare to the circles that always showed up on The Doctor's computer monitor in the console room. When she'd asked what they meant, he'd told her it was Gallifreyan and proceeded with a very fast explanation of the TARDIS and its translation field, and from what she could understand, the only things it couldn't translate for her were languages as old as time itself and Gallifreyan.

Her hand shook with timidity as she wrapped her fingers around the bronze doorknob. If her guess was correct, then the TARDIS had led her to The Doctor's bedroom, a room he'd mentioned only once in passing and which she had never seen before. It wasn't as though she'd ever gone looking for it.

She opened the door slowly, both hoping he was inside the room and yet praying he wasn't at the same time, though she knew if he wasn't inside the TARDIS wouldn't have led her there. The room was dark, but as she stepped inside it she could still make out a decent portion of what was inside. A bed, of course, quite large and adorned with dark sheets, sitting beneath a replica of a galaxy Rose had never seen before painted onto the ceiling. The floor was void of anything, which wasn't all that surprising considering it was him but felt slightly unnatural when she was so accustomed to the chaos residing on her own bedroom floor. The dresser was covered with odds and ends; paper and wires and trinkets from various planets. On the table beside the bed was an old-fashioned alarm clock and the sonic screwdriver, and Rose's eyes went from it to the person lying beneath the covers.

It was strange to see him sleep. She'd seen him unconscious before, though those brief periods didn't last for very long, and sometimes she'd walk in on him dozing off in an armchair in the library, but he'd snap awake the moment she made a sound. The only time she'd ever seen him truly asleep was the first day after his regeneration, when he'd been in bed as the Sycorax invaded Earth. She bit her bottom lip and tiptoed towards the bed, wondering if this was a normal thing he did; steal away to his bedroom after she'd bid him goodnight, going to bed after she did and rising before.

The Doctor was not a heavy sleeper. Another presence in the room was enough to tug him back into consciousness, and as the haze of sleep lifted and his eyes slid groggily open, the person tremulously approaching his bed froze in place. The lack of hostility in the air made The Doctor quite unconcerned about an attacker, but it was rather interesting to be awoken this way. 900 years and he was experiencing something new.

He slowly took in the features of the person frozen a few feet away from him and grew slightly worried when he saw the familiar yellow hair and his companion's hesitant expression. "Rose? What is it?" he inquired, sitting up and grabbing for his screwdriver, just in case. "Is something wrong?"

The lights flickered and cast a dim light across the room so he could better see her, and he watched as she bit the inside of her cheek and shook her head. 'Not exactly wrong," she mumbled. "I just… I'm sorry. About earlier."

Not that he didn't appreciate the sentiment, but couldn't this have waited until morning? Still… "It's all right. I understand," he assured her, and the corner of her lips twitched.

"So I'm forgiven?"

"You're always forgiven," he replied at once, which prompted a smile from her. Oh, it was good to see her smile again! "Is that all you wanted?" he asked, although he knew there would be more by the way she was fidgeting. She always fidgeted when she wanted to ask for something she thought he may not give her. It appeared she hadn't yet figured out that he could deny her nothing (when what she wanted didn't interfere with the laws of time and space, that was).

She rocked on her heels for a moment before admitting with pink tingeing her cheeks. "I can't fall asleep. I'm… I'm _scared_ to."

He wasn't quite sure what to take from that. Did she want advice from him? Or something more? "I did tell you that getting rid of that salve would get rid of the nightmares, didn't I? You put it on before you went to sleep and the fumes affected your subconscious. They wouldn't have happened at all if you'd waited five and a half hours before you went to sleep. Always wait five and a half hours."

"I know it's… stupid," she sighed, looking at the floor. "To be scared of dreams. But I am. What if you're wrong?"

"Rose Tyler, you wound me!" The Doctor exclaimed in mock horror, though he was slightly hurt by her doubt. Unless that doubt was a ploy for the something more he had been wondering about. "Well, you can't not sleep. Humans need sleep, and I certainly won't have you nodding off when we're on some great adventure with wonderful things to see."

She stared at him pleadingly. Oh, there was the face. The face he couldn't say no to.

"Do you… want to stay here?" he offered hesitantly. Was that proper? Oh, goodness, if Jackie ever found out she would murder him.

Rose shifted her weight from one foot to the other. He could tell she wanted to accept his offer, but something was holding her back. He wished she'd just do what she wanted to do. "It won't put you out, will it?" Rose finally asked.

The Doctor smiled slightly at her uncertainty and shook his head, unwilling to tell her that he was starting to think he might actually prefer to have her sleeping beside him, to eliminate any worry he may have about her wellbeing. Every minute she wasn't in his sight, he worried about her. Rose hesitated briefly before coming the rest of the way to his bed and crawling into it as he shifted over to its other side. The lights shut off again and he contented himself with listening to Rose's breaths, coming slower and steadier from the opposite side of the bed. He'd already gotten all the sleep he required; any more would be a nice indulgence, but entirely unnecessary. He was almost sure she'd fallen asleep before she was suddenly _there_, pressed against him with her head resting on his chest. She smiled as she heard the heartbeats thrumming within.

"I don't want to leave," she whispered, and The Doctor had no trouble discerning what she meant.

He smiled and slowly wrapped an arm around her. "I don't want you to leave, either." With some hesitancy, he pressed a chaste kiss to her brow and requested, "Let's not think about this. We have time. Loads of it. So many adventures to look forward to. Let's forget about all of the future stuff and live for what's here right now." Hoping to prove a point, he hugged her tighter against him.

She grinned and shut her eyes, content at last. "Okay."

She was fading out of consciousness fast, no longer frightened of what she might see in her dreams when she was so close to The Doctor. She let go the nightmares she'd had in the past few days; he was right. They didn't matter. What mattered was here and now, curled into the Doctor's side with his arm around her, sharing a pillow with him as she drifted off to sleep.

"Remind me," The Doctor murmured just before sleep claimed her. "How long are you going to stay with me?"

She made a soft noise of assent and, just before fading into the welcoming black, whispered back, "Forever."


End file.
